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When Athanasia is first told that Claude is her father she laughs.
But then she quickly stops because Lily looks like she’s going to cry and Athanasia never wants Lily to be sad. While she outwardly placates Lily by assuring her that she was joking (not), she inwardly can’t help but think that Lily is being silly.
After all, while Claude is the Emperor and Athanasia is the princess, Claude is not her father and she is not his daughter; she is just a child he made, not his child. Simple.
With this mindset, Athanasia continues on with her childhood, striving to be the perfect heir to the Empire but only that. She’s not lonely, quite the opposite actually, she has her maids and Lily, who might also be a maid but is more so her mother — not that she’ll tell her because Lily has always carried on thinking that Claude is her father. Silly Lily. The only way she will ever have a father is if Lily chooses to get married.
—————
Athanasia meets the Emperor.
It’s her ninth birthday and she had a private little get-together with Lily (who surprised her with the best cake imaginable, thank the gods for the blessing that is Lilly) and ended up playing pretend. At Athanasia’s insistence, Lily was the mom and Athanasia was the daughter. She didn’t like the way Lily teared up (if that’s how she reacts when Athanasia gets her to be her pretend mom how is she going to react when she calls her mom for real?) But after all that playing Athy is tired and Lily gets her ready for bed.
She’s on her bed, fluffing up her pillows to an inane degree when the lights catch her eye and sounds dizzy her with how loud they are. Athanasia was tired and just wanted to sleep but now she’s annoyed and curious, but cautiously so. The only one who would dare make such a commotion in castle grounds and be absolved from any guilt is after all the Emperor. Regularly, Athanasia would have just ignored it and gone to bed but, perhaps in part (read: mostly) due to the fact that she was probably (read: completely) delirious with how tired she was, she leaves her bed and goes out with the intent to see what was going on. Simply just a quick glance and then she’d leave and go to bed. It would be uneventful.
It is not uneventful.
She gets through the Ruby Palace’s garden relatively fast, but looking back on it she wishes she had taken longer. Athanasia follows the light and makes her way to a piece of shrubbery to hide behind while she gets a glimpse of the palace the banquet is being held at. She does not expect to make eye contact with who is obviously the Emperor. Luckily for her, years of practice kick in and she performs a perfect 90º curtsy and greets him, “Athanasia de Alger Obelia greets the Emperor.”
Unbeknownst to herself, her voice comes out steely, the irritation of not being able to sleep and the exhaustion of the day’s activities seeping in. Claude’s eyes twitch in amusement, thinking that the little princess is picking a fight with him and muses internally, ‘upset about being neglected perhaps?’ And while the answer is a resounding “no,” the Emperor is, fortunately, or unfortunately in this scenario, not a mind reader.
For her part, Athanasia is growing stiff from bowing so long and annoyed from not being dismissed yet.
Claude ignores her growing visible discomfort and continues to observe her until her little legs tremble from exhaustion and he thinks that it was more amusing when she spoke to him coldly. “The princess has greeted Us, you may rise.”
Finally being allowed up, Athy breathes out a quiet sigh of relief and does another little curtsy, not quite as formal, and makes her merry way back to the Ruby Palace and, more importantly, her bed. ‘Well, at least that’s the end of it.’
—————
Usually, Athanasia thinks the world is perfectly normal and everything is how it should be, but sometimes she thinks that the universe has a personal vendetta against her.
Today is one such day.
It is the day after her ninth birthday, the day she met the Emperor (but she’s trying to erase that little incident from her mind because every time she thinks on it, it only serves to annoy her) when a red-haired knight shows up. Today also marks the day Athy’s feelings for the Emperor go from distant awe, respect, and nothing else to annoyance.
She had just finished her lessons and that meant playtime with Lily and any of the other free maids, but no. Apparently, the Emperor sent this knight here to escort her to him for some tea. Really? Athy would pick Lily and playtime any day over tea with the Emperor. But alas, not like she can refuse him.
Athanasia turns to a pale and worried Lily and all the other maids that had gathered upon sighting the knight and gives them a small, reassuring smile before turning back to the knight. She lets out a loud, irritable sigh and schools her features into something carefully neutral. She catches the knight’s wide-eyed stare at the sigh but dismisses it, after all, what is he going to do, tell on her?
(In the privacy of Claude’s own chambers, Felix does indeed relay the princess’s actions to Claude. He pretends not to see the amused smirk that slowly emerges onto Claude’s face the longer he goes on.)
—————
Tea Time with the Emperor is as dull as Athy had originally imagined. They do not talk to each other; the Emperor just watches as she indulges herself in the expensive sweets layer before them, unflinching in his gaze even as Athy peers over the rim of her cup to stare.
Athy steels her stomach and comes to a decision, proceeding to stuff her face with the meagre quantity of food left. She would get a stomachache, and likely ruin what little of an image the Emperor might’ve held of her but, really, that’s what she’s hoping for at this point.
She settles her little cake fork to the side when she’s done, about to rise and bid her formal farewells when the Emperor catches her eye and tilts his head consideringly. Athy can swear she hears a smug laugh in his voice as he calls for more cake to be served.
Ah. She sees. This is how he’ll kill her. Stuffing her full of cakes and making her contract diabetes. What a terrible way to go. She’ll have to write a will when she gets back, (everything to Lily of course, and maybe a little for the rest of her maids, Lily would feel bad if she was the only one to receive anything).
The Emperor interrupts her thoughts before they can further digress into a frenzy, “You seem to like sweets, yes? We will bring out more if you desire.”
Oh god, it’s totally a threat, right? “You can’t leave until you finish everything on the table, even if it kills you.” That’s what he meant, right?
Athy twitches in her seat and her features become clouded in discomfort, her hands finding a place on her stomach, “Actually, I think I might’ve eaten too much, I don’t think I’ll be able to eat anymore.”
She chances a quick glance to gauge the Emperor’s reaction and wishes she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have to bear witness to that infuriating smirk otherwise. He speaks slow, as though weighing his words, “...We see, you may return to your palace.”
Finally, she’s free. She makes to stand and her legs wobble from disuse, strained from the long hour of maintaining a stiff posture, ‘ah, falling and making a fool of myself might be the best course of action all things considered.’ Athy starts to raise her arms to brace herself when they are firmly grasped in the surprisingly gentle hold of large and unfamiliar hands.
The Emperor stares down at her and rights her back up, before smiling. It’s a terrible thing. “The knight that escorted you here... had to leave for duty.”
And that is just a blatant lie because Athy swears she saw him hovering not too far back in the distance, red hair is not easily camouflaged in the greens of the garden. She turns back to where she last remembers him standing only to find him gone. ‘Am I... being played?’ Because really this can only be a coordinated attack on her sanity all things considered.
“So, We shall act in his place and return you. After all, We are unsure if your... condition would allow you to return unaided by yourself.” He. Knew. He goddamn knew she was faking it but seemed content to go along for his own amusement. She looks down to see an already extended arm waiting for her and scrambles to accept.
Her maids almost suffer a heart attack when she returns to her palace on the arm of the Emperor. Lily feels a mixture of terror and pride (is her little girl gonna leave her too...?)
Athy slips away from the Emperor, trying for nonchalance, when the Emperor stops her with his voice. “Today was... fun, We will see you again tomorrow.”
He turns away without waiting for a response while Athy trembles in indignation. Ah, to be Emperor, with the absolute confidence that your words will be obeyed without the need to repeat oneself. (It’s good that Lily makes her way to Athy when she does, lest another case of patricide be added to the royal records.)
—————
Claude may have found the greatest pastime; it’s called Athanasia. A spiteful name, no doubt, granted with the dying breath of that fairy-like wench, but a great pastime nonetheless.
After meeting her in the garden, he’s been curious. Just how far does the little one’s hate run? Would she follow in his footsteps? The whole situation was quite amusing to him. So, like a good hunter, he went to observe his prey.
Of course, he’s heard about the princess in passing, occasional mentions of praise from visiting nobles (until he promptly quiets their grating voices with a disinterested glare). He knows that she is diligent in her studies and upholds a standard that most heir apparents only strive to. But. That is all he knows, he realizes. Claude is the Emperor and Athanasia is simply the princess, there is nothing else he needs — needed — to know.
His expectations are subverted over their tea. He would have thought that she would retain that aloof attitude of hers from their first meeting, but contrarily, her face displays all her thoughts plainly. He’s never seen one fly through expressions like her (maybe that wench once upon a time but that’s neither here nor there). Curious and curiouser. He makes no move to talk to her and is content to just watch her none-too-subtle stare when she thinks he’s not paying attention. Silly girl, he would never be unguarded against a threat, no matter how small. (Though he’s starting to think that perhaps his initial perception of her was wrong, did she not hate him?)
Claude looks on passively as she grimaces before squirreling what little food is left into her tiny mouth. He’s struck by a brief bout of confusion, does she like sweets or not? Before realizing that he had been too immersed in his observations and hadn’t touched his own portion, forcing the princess to eat it in hopes of finding an excuse to leave.
His hand twitches from where it lays rested against his lap before he makes a split decision and suggests more dessert, if only to see how she would react. Perhaps a polite refusal? Again, his expectations are completely undermined when she feigns a stomach ache. What a poor performance (Claude will have to make sure that she is taught the art of subtly and is made master of posturing, more so than any other of those sniveling nobles).
At first he simply meets with her out of curiosity. And then out of amusement when he sees her obvious reluctance and irritation for these little meetings. And gradually, that becomes more.
Biweekly meetings turn into weekly, weekly meetings turn into once every couple days, and eventually, it all evolves into seeing each other every day.
Sometimes he’ll give her things; a garden, full of those flowers she loves, and as time goes on, even the keys to the treasury, just to see her disgruntled reaction and get a rise out of her.
(Athanasia is this close to learning magic for the sole reason of teleporting Lily and herself out of the palace (maybe that little red-head knight that Lily’s recently taken a shine to as well) so they can run away and she’ll never have to see the Emperor again. Hah. As if the Emperor wouldn’t lay waste to all just to see her home.)
Given their extended time together, talking has become inevitable, and though they faced some difficulties in that area, (‘Why won’t she just call me father, or even something remotely similar? That is how this is supposed to work, is it not?’), it’s ultimately resolved with a few well placed, sickeningly sweet (read: terrifying) smiles every time she mentions that accursed title in his presence.
(The castle staff is mildly horrified watching their great and awe-inspiring Emperor become domestic. It’s also not like they can look away; it’s like watching a train crash. They might have found it cute if he didn’t go about it in such a roundabout and childish way. For now, they just hope that the crown princess will see it for what it is and doesn’t murder her own father in his sleep. Though seeing the baleful glare she sends his way, they aren’t exactly hopeful.)
—————
It ends like how it starts: at a banquet, (if the crown princess’s coming of age ceremony can be compared to a measly banquet that is). Or at least she was hoping that was how it would’ve gone.
Felix initially accepted being her partner before returning the next day and apologizing profusely, admitting he had forgotten an important appointment. She called bullshit. Felix was an imperial bodyguard, what was more important to him than guarding the imperials? Her father had to have a hand in it.
It wasn’t like she could turn up unescorted either, it would reflect poorly on the Empire, and even worse on her. And so, there was really only one option left; Athy had asked her... father to dance with her.
Things had been going relatively peacefully, but as she and her father were about to take to the dance floor, a duke, Roger Alpheus, if she recalls, makes his way up to them. Behind him trails a girl, brunette, probably around Athy’s age if she had to guess, her eyes trained on the ground.
Again, nothing too abnormal, until. Until Alpheus pulls the girl out from behind him, her face flushed and full of expectation, and announces that she is his daughter.
Seeing her with her head tilted up gave her full views of the eyes, and even she can’t help eyes from traveling to her father’s face in askance about her royal eyes, a singular eyebrow raised in disapproval. Though, the smile that threatened to break out on her face betrayed her.
‘So, another daughter huh? Oh god yes someone else can take my place now, I’m finally free! Goodbye emotionally stunted father of mine!’
Claude looks down at her and smiles, that same smile that she can never forget from their first tea time, and she feels shivers go up her spine. Goddam. How does that man always know what she’s thinking? She releases a sigh and looks off to the side, her interest in the situation officially gone.
Calmly looking back to the spectacle in front of them, Claude’s expression quickly becomes indifferent. His lips part, short and decisive, as though it’s not worth his time, “Not mine.”
The ceremony has come to a screeching halt as the nobles eat up the events unfolding before them. “Guards, take the girl to the dungeon. Alpheus,” he smirks, “you can explain this to Us later, until then, We sentence you to house arrest.”
A few guards take the girl and Claude ignores the pleading, hopeful glances she throws his way, about to lead Athanasia to dance, when she speaks, screams, for the first time, “Father!”
He comes to an abrupt halt and directs the guards, “Hold that thing for a minute.”
Claude leaves his spot by Athanasia’s side and walks gracefully across the hall, crouching to reach its eye level. She looks at him like a saviour and a father wrapped up into one, and he looks at her like an insect to be crushed beneath his boot. “We have, and will only ever have, one singular daughter. There is no one else in this Empire that can address Us as father.”
He spits the last word with as much venom as he can muster, before righting himself and waving his hand for the guards to continue on their way.
Claude takes a moment to look across the hall at his true daughter, his lips slightly upturned at the corners and head tilted high, making a bit of a show. It almost seems as though he’s looking for validation, a “good job,” if you will.
Athy rolls her eyes but her smile is full, “Well, are we gonna dance or what?”